“I was trying to be a gentleman,” I tell her. “But you’re too independent for me.”
“Oh.” She laughs gently, then gets into the car and closes the door, looking at me with a challenge in her eyes.
I chuckle, open the door, and offer her my hand. She climbs out, then I open the back seat and reach in for Theo. He makes the cutest cooing noise as I cradle him to my chest.
“I’ve got his carrier,” Ava murmurs, looking at me with that tight, needy hunger she can’t hide when she sees me go full Dad mode.
“I want to hold him a while,” I murmur. “If that’s okay?”
She smiles almost sadly, reaches forward, strokes her hand across Theo's head, then gently touches my cheek. “It must feel strange, asking permission. I bet you’re not used to it.”
“I’m not,” I admit. “But I’ve never had a kid before. I’m determined to do this right.”
She takes a step back like my words have shocked her, nodding. I can see the conflict in her eyes, always there, a never-ending battle. But I can tell she likes this… us three being together.
Cradling Theo with one arm, I offer Ava my other. “Shall we?”
“What about…” She gestures at the car.
“My people will bring everything we need.”
She takes my arm, and together, we walk down the red-rose-petal path.
Inside, we’re met with a wall of glass, glowing a deep blue color. Rays glide across the water like silk sheets, big fish drifting between them, orange and green and red. Ava lets go of my arm and walks up to the glass, gazing at it.
“I’ve never seen it like this before,” she murmurs. “All lit up. No one else around.”
I stroke my hand over our son’s head as I watch his mother, the passion in her eyes, her hand trembling slightly as she raises it to the glass.
“This was your escape,” I murmur, remembering what she said that night. “You didn’t have a tough childhood – at least, not as tough as some – but you found it difficult to make friends and didn’t feel you fit in. But here, you felt like you belonged. Like these fish were pieces of art put here to inspire you.”
She looks at me over her shoulder, cheeks flushed through her makeup, eyes glimmering. “It’s like you’re reading my mind.”
“I remember everything about that night,” I tell her truthfully. “Word for word.”
I walk forward, sliding my hand over the small of her back. “Your favorite is next.”
She glows, looking so devastatingly beautiful, I can’t believe there was ever a reality where I was content to be alone. “The jellyfish.”
We walk into the next section. The tanks lit up with fluorescent purples and icy blues, and the jellyfish pulsing across the tank. Theo gargles and raises his hand. I approach softly, letting him touch the glass, and Ava turns to us as if she might cry.
“These always made you think of abstract art,” I say. “They reminded you that art could be anything… everything. I wonder if he’s thinking the same. Perhaps he’s got a little artist’s spirit in him too.”
“Maybe,” she says. “Or maybe he inherited more of you than me.”
I grit my teeth and tilt my head at her.
She gives me a sassy head-tilt right back, as if to say,Go on, tell me to be quiet, to stop ruining this.
“I’ll support our son in whatever he chooses,” I tell her.
She smiles, then forces her lips flat. “If that’s true, that’s beautiful.”
“There’s noifabout it.”
She pouts at me. For a terrifying second, it’s like I’m seeing my mother. It all comes back to me in an ugly rush. Her fate. My father’s betrayal. The fact that this life, no matter how hard we try, is never fully safe.
I push it all down.
